Sunday, May 20, 2012

Belvidere Mountain Hike

Wilson and I climbed Belvidere Mountain yesterday, starting from Tillotson Road in Lowell. The trail climbed gradually at first, crossing several small streams, including one that seemed big enough to hold brook trout. It was a hot sunny day, the wildflowers were in full bloom, and I could smell the blossoms of wild apple trees.

It took a couple of hours to reach the summit. There was one couple there, and Wilson ran over to say hello. They were from Montreal. His family has a place in Jay, and she grew up in New Zealand. They met in Shenzhen. I asked them for help opening my beer, because I didn't have an opener. It was a special maple wheat beer from Rock Art. We couldn't open it with the lighter, but I eventually popped the cap off against the metal leg of the fire tower. I offered some beer to the couple, but they declined. "It's a special maple beer," I told them, and the girl from New Zealand said "Wow - how Canadian of you."

From the top we could see the abandoned asbestos mine in the foreground, and the Lowell ridgeline just beyond. The access road and turbine pads for the Lowell wind project stood out as brown scars against the light green of the springtime mountains.

My picnic was pretty awesome. I had stopped at Pete's and bought a baguette from Elmore Mountain, a container of garlic cheese spread from Sweet Rowen Farmstead, and a bag of Pete's mesclun greens. There was a lot of food, but I was hungry, and Wilson helped me eat the bread and cheese.

Another couple arrived as I was getting ready to leave. They were from Cambridge, MA, and had a condo in Newport Center. I gave them the rest of my picnic. The guy asked if I was selling stock in Sweet Rowen because of my description of the cheese.

The hike down went by quick. There were so many wildflowers.

On the drive to the trailhead I had passed what looked like a great fishing spot, so I stopped on the way back, and Wilson and I explored the river. It was a gorgeous trout stream - the headwaters of the Missisquoi, I think, a series of pools and rapids carved into rock. My spinner was too big - a #2 Mepps - and although I attracted lots of strikes I only landed one fish - a fat 10'' brookie. There were some old cellar holes along the stream.

I quit fishing when I lost the spinner and drove home listening to a Quebec radio station that played 80s dance music. Later, looking at Google Earth, I saw that the beautiful trout stream flows right out of beaver ponds by the old asbestos mine.